Got Soup?
by Hunting Angels
Summary: While interviewing someone for a case, Sam reveals a hidden talent to Dean. He can cook, much to Dean's surprise but happiness.


They strode up to the front door in their FBI suits while both fiddling with their fake badges. The neighbourhood was quiet as only a few cars were driving around and only a couple of kids were playing ball. Dean stepped forward and knocked against the dark paint of the large door. It was only a matter of seconds before a woman in her fourties opened the door.

She smiled at the men in suits, "Can I help you, gentlemen?"

"Mrs Schooner? I'm Agent Daniels and this is my partner Agent Laddis. Do you mind if we ask you a few questions?" They both raised their badges in synchronization.

"What about?" Concern layer her voice.

"It's about the disappearances that have been taking place in the neighbourhood recently." Sam smiled reassuringly.

"Oh, of course. Please come in." The woman walked into the house and led them through to a large minimalist kitchen.

Vegetables of all different kinds were strewn across the marble work surface as a large pot bubbled on the stove. The rich smell of soup filled the air making Dean take a deep breath and almost sighed happily. Carrots were half chopped on a wooden chopping board while an onion sat half peeled next to it.

Dean took the sight in greedily, after all food is food no matter what it's made of. He pulled his notebook from his pocket and began asking questions.

The woman tried her best to multitask but was obviously becoming flustered as she had to attempt to finish the soup while answering the Winchester's bizarre questions. Sam felt guilty for letting her struggle and he itched to help the woman.

"It must have been about a week ago when the-" She was suddenly interrupted.

"Do you need some help?" Sam couldn't help it when the words tumbled from his mouth. Dean shot a confused glance at his baby brother.

"... Help cooking?" She stuttered out shocked.

"Yeah. It's been a long time since I've managed to get into the kitchen and to be honest, I'm craving a bit of cooking." He flashed a smile that dripped charm, "Plus, it'd help you focus on the questions."

Dean briefly wondered if it was something Sam was doing to find out more information or whether he really did just want to cook. He'd never seen Sam cook a proper meal before and doubted that he'd even be capable. After all, they only ever ate in diners.

"Well, if you're sure..." She hesitated for a moment before pulling out a second chopping board and sharp knife and placed them in front of where the taller Hunter was standing.

With speed, Sam washed his hands and picked the knife up from the table and began to dice the onion. His eyes scanned the recipe that was out on the table quickly. The blade moved in a blur as he manoeuvred it with such skill that was usually reserved for a Michelin star restaurant. Within seconds the whole onion was diced into perfectly sized cubes. Sam pushed the board towards the woman with a smile and dragged the carrots chopping board across the marble to him.

The woman blinked, shocked at the FBI Agent's performance. It was so unexpected and out of the blue that it left her frowning down at the onion. She hastily scrapped the onion into the pot and turned back to the shorter agent, who was also staring in confusion at his partner.

Dean shook himself out of his daze and continued to ask the woman the standard questions, all while Sam's constant chopping could be heard in the background.

Sam consulted the recipe before he began to work on the other vegetables at a speed more commonly associated with professional chefs. He strode over to the pot and dumped it in the bubbling water. It was as though they were in Sam's kitchen the way he was suddenly so unbelievably comfortable in the space. The woman asked Dean's questions and after a few minutes didn't bother keeping an eye on Sam as she knew that he'd just be cooking.

She answered his questions as Sam buzzed around them, chopping, dicing and putting bowls and pots by the large sink to be cleaned.

The taller man was just scrapping the last of the vegetables into the soup when Dean grabbed his arm and thanked the woman for her time. Sam also thanked her before following Dean out.

The woman stood frozen in her spot. This definitely wasn't an experience that she'd be forgetting anytime soon. After all, how often does an FBI agent cook your dinner for you?

Sam took a deep breath as the exited the front door and began to walk back to the Impala. Only after a few moments of striding ahead he realised that Dean had stopped walking down the path. He turned and raised a confused eyebrow to his big brother.

"What the hell, Sam?" Dean looked at Sam like he had two heads.

"What?" He cried innocently.

"When did you learn to cook?!"

Sam shrugged nonchalantly, "Jess taught me."

The younger brother began to walk away from the house when Dean jogged to catch up and say, "Damn. You're cooking me something some when."

Sam chuckled but nodded nonetheless.


End file.
